Still Himself
by Elisabeth Hill
Summary: He would have moved the stars to spare her this pain, would have taken on the universe, would have rounded up all of the evil of all of the constellations and volunteered to guard its prison. He'd give anything not to be causing it now.


AN: Fill for the kinkmeme. The prompter wanted Kozmotis, still in possession of his mind but corrupted by fearlings, meeting his daughter again, and because apparently I have a taste for the tears of innocent readers, I had to write something.

* * *

This never should have happened.

He should never have come so close to the world that he gave everything to protect and that the greedy dark begs, threatens, seduces him to destroy. He should have left the ship alone when it limped into port on the prison planet, crippled, its mast down and its captain clearly desperate, for who in their right mind would stray into this forsaken corner of the galaxy?

_No one in their right mind, General. _

He should have left them, stayed well away, but he could hardly let a ship flying the Constellations' colours fall to the Dream Pirates who followed close on their tail, not when it was his fault _your fault yourfaultyourprideyourFAILUR E_ that the pirates were even free to give chase. Not when he could so easily bring the entire crew of the pirate ship down, slipping from shadow to shadow, striking _like a coward_ without being seen. _Not when the terror that radiates off of the pirate scum is like a fine wine,_ _rich and delicious and making him feel strongpowerful_alive_ in a way he hasn't felt since he opened the doors_ –

No. No, this should _never_ have happened.

But even after all of that, it still might not have gone so wrong had he only slipped back into the dark once the pirate ship hovered empty in the void, the dying screams of the last living pirate still echoing in his ears and silencing the howling shadows. Had he not deemed them sated enough, their voices quiet enough, to risk boarding the navy ship.

He should have known better. Should have known, but he's been alone here for so long, while the menace _he_ unleashed preys on the stars _and that could be us we could be terrors in the night we could be nightmares made solid we could have theGoldenAgeonitskneesbefore us_

"Kozmotis?"

He should have run.

The captain's face is familiar, even through the greenish blood crusted across its left side, but no name comes from the depths of a tattered memory. The recognition that flickers behind those eyes is subsumed, for a moment, by fear, the soul-wrenching terror of the familiar gone wrong. _It's delicious, isn't it? _But the captain doesn't let it stop him, of course he doesn't, because you don't rise through the ranks of the Constellation navy – or army – by succumbing to fear. "Is it really you? Thank the stars! We came to find you, she insisted -" The captain's voice falters, as does his smile, at the sight of the General's face. "What _happened_?"

He can't help but look back, towards the door. The door, now useless, that hangs open on its hinges.

"I failed."

The sound of his own voice is strange, so long unused, after all the time he's spent listening to the whispers of the fearlings in the back of his mind. _It's strange to hear you speak without screaming, General._

The captain's relief is clear. "It's good to know you're still yourself, sir. We _need_ you out there. The worlds are under attack, the Lunanoffs have gone into hiding –"

_see see see what we could do they left you here alone to die why why why not hurt them KILL THEM _

"I can't." There's a sob in his voice, or a laugh, and he stops, swallows. "I can't. I can't go back -"

"Daddy?"

At first, he thinks it's a trick, another nightmare playing itself out before his eyes. But how would the fearlings know how she's grown, how her voice has deepened and matured with age, how she's tall enough, now, that he would hardly be able to tuck her head under his chin should she fling her arms around him? How she carries herself proudly upright, like a queen _or a general_, even when she's racing up the stairs from belowdecks, barely able to contain her excitement, so much like the small child she used to be?

How that excitement freezes on her pretty face, so like her mother's, when she sees him standing on the deck. How it turns to shock, leaden disbelief quickly giving way to horror.

How the shadows in him drink it greedily down and begscream_demand_ for more.

_And for a moment the lure is too much to resist and he forgets _why_ he resists and the fearlings howl in triumph and her screams will be sweeter than honey and _

"What _are_ you?"

Her face crumples, and he never wanted to see her in this much pain, he would have moved the stars to spare her, would have taken on the universe, _would have rounded up all of the evil of all of the constellations and volunteered to guard its prison_. He'd give anything, _anything_, not to be causing that pain now.

"_What have you done to my father?!_"

He can't stay even a moment longer. The shadows welcome him back like an old friend, and his daughter's hysterical sobs fade into silence.

This never should have happened.


End file.
